“Relax,” he murmurs. “Talk to me. What you get up to today?”

How does he expect you to form words when he’s touching you like this? Your brain shorts out and your body does the opposite; softening, opening up for him like it’s instinct. He feels it and his smile goes all types of satisfied, a slow curve against your wet skin.

“Mhm, cat got your tongue already. Guess I’ll talk then.” Tyriq leans in and softly kisses your damp shoulder, then bites down hard enough to make you tense and soothes the spot with his warm tongue. “I missed you today. Couldn’t stop thinkin’ about this.”

He doesn’t give you a second to brace yourself before he shoves two fingers deep inside your pussy, the sudden, deliciously full feeling making you reach out to grab the edge of the tub, but he doesn't stop. He doesn't even need to ask if it feels good because already knows, and he’s still grinning like it too.

“Missed how you feel right here,” he murmurs, crooking his fingers to hit that spot. Your hips jerk. “Missed this shit so bad. Always so wet for me. Fucking dripping’ in the goddamn bath.”

He sets a rhythm, a hard, deep curl of his fingers, while his thumb grinds into your clit. His other hand comes up to cup your jaw, his thumb brushing your bottom lip.

Your hips are chasing the feeling of Tyriq’s thumb worshipping your clit. His fingers work you slow and deep, every curl of his fingers dragging like he's savoring it. His other hand comes up to cradle your jaw, thumb stroking your bottom lip like he wants to feel the sounds you’re making. “Look at me, pretty girl. Wanna see you while I'm inside you."

You part your lips like a Pavlovian response and his thumb enters your mouth, a moan escaping you as you feel it press down on your tongue. You taste salt and him, sucking immediately like your body already knows what to do with him.

Three fingers stretch you open now, so slow you feel every vein on his fingers. Your hips have a mind of their own; steady rolling up towards his hand as you make soft, needy sounds around his thumb. He watches your face the whole time, the little overwhelmed crease you get between your eyebrows, how your lashes flutter in pleasure.

"You hear yourself?" He sounds like he can’t believe he gets to have this. Tyriq’s forehead drops to yours with a groan, his breath dancing against your skin. "This pussy so loud for me tonight, mama. So honest, singing for me. Tell me what you need, baby. I got you.” He works you through the tremble, through the ache, until your thighs are soaked and shaking and you're biting down on him just to stay tethered. He’s controlling your climax, holding you right on the edge, watching, waiting, wanting to hear you say it.

He pulls his fingers from you, slick and shining, then slips his thumb from your lips. The air feels cooler without his hands on you. He stands up then, his tall frame towering over you as water drips from his wrist onto the bathmat.

“Five minutes,” he says, his voice almost strained. “I need you out this tub in five minutes. Don’t make me wait longer.”

He leaves, sucking his fingers before he even opens the door. The water all of a sudden feels suddenly unfairly cold.

Three minutes later you’re walking into your bedroom, towel barely knotted around your body.

He’s on the edge of your bed in his boxers, hands resting on his knees, looking like he counted every second he waited for you. Your bed’s still a mess from the night before; sheets kicked to the foot, pillows half on the floor, still smelling like the both of y’all.

His head lifts the second your feet hit the floorboards, his eyes fixed on the drop of water rolling from your collarbone down between your breasts.

“’Bout time.”

Then he stands up, moving towards you in two steps and the distance between you both is gone. Your towel doesn't last a few seconds before it’s pushed down, puddled at your feet before his mouth claims yours.

He doesn't ask. He just takes, and you let him. The kiss isn't sweet; it’s hungry, searching; his tongue sliding past your lips like he's been starving for it. There’s the faint taste of those strawberry-watermelon mints he always has and the smell of his skin, and you’re suddenly lightheaded from how much he’s taking. His hand cups the back of your neck, fingers threading into your hair, tilting your head exactly how he wants it. You nip his bottom lip and he groans into your mouth; a guttural sound that vibrates through his chest into yours. His hips grind forward, the hard line of his dick a strong, heavy pressure against your stomach.

“Missed this mouth,” he grunts against your lips, sounding half mad with it. “Missed the way you taste. The sounds you make when I got you like this…fuck, I missed all of you, baby.”

He doesn’t break the kiss until you fall back into the mess of last night’s sheets. He follows you down, knees forcing yours apart, his hands sliding up your sides like he’s finally allowed to touch what’s his. His warm lips make their way down your chest, tongue swirling around the barbell through your peaked nipple until you’re arching off the bed, hands cradling his head. You try to say his name, but he hushes you, his eyes dark and fixed on the wet heat between your legs. He pushes your thighs open with a gentleness that feels like a lie, his gaze heavy and focused. He hovers there, his breath fanning over your teased skin before he leans in and licks you open. A slow, needy drag of his tongue from your entrance to your clit that feels like he's trying to taste every secret you've ever kept from him.

He pushes your hips back down with one hand when you buck, firm and flat on your stomach. "Be still." His voice vibrates against your skin. He eats you slow, tongue dragging through your slick, then pulls back just far enough to spit on you. You hear him groan at the sight of his saliva dripping down your slit and your whole body clenches around nothing. Then he laps it up, tongue working your clit in tight, maddening circles, and the sounds coming out of you are embarrassingly loud, raw, nothing you can control. Your thighs are shaking and he doesn't stop, his own sounds telling you he’s already holding on by a thread too.

"God,” you gasp out.

“What you callin’ out to God for? He didn’t make you this wet. I did.” He smirks, his thumb catching a stray drop of spit on his lip before he goes back to work. He fucks you with his fingers, pressing against your spot with insistent knocks while his tongue flicks your clit relentlessly; it’s so wet you can feel it dripping down your ass. He hums against you again; a low, arrogant sound that means he knows exactly what he’s doing to you. Tyriq’s fingers curl harder inside you to find the ceiling of your pussy, and you’re pretty sure you’re about to come apart right there.

When he comes up for air, you’re a writhing mess beneath him. Your legs won’t stop shaking, your chest is heaving, your inner thighs are slick with a mess of his spit and your own juices as your pussy throbs. Tyriq crawls up your body, mouth leaving a wet, burning trail over your skin until he’s hovering, all 205 pounds of warm, solid muscle covering you. His fist is wrapped around the thick length of himself, dragging through your slick folds, catching on your clit with a soft pressure before the head of his leaking dick taps against your clit. Once. Twice. Just a heavy, wet knock at the door, his jaw tight as he listens to the broken sound you make in response.

He holds it there, a heavy promise that has your pulse thumping against him. He looks at you like he’s trying to memorize the way your eyes blow out when he touches you. Then he drags it down, slow and wet through your folds before pulling back to do it again.

“Tyriq… stop.” You’re whining but don’t mean it, and you both know it.

“Stop?” He taps the head against you again, a hot, heavy promise that has your pulse thumping against him. “You sure about that?”

"No, please. You know what I want."

"I don't know shit." He grinds against you, a deep, heavy smear of his dick against your clit that makes your thighs clamp around his waist. He lets out a rough, shaky laugh against your neck. "Talk to me. Lemme hear it, pretty girl."

"Please."

"Please what?" His voice is firmer as he sinks his tip inside you, pushing in just enough to stretch the skin, to let you feel how massive he is, then he drags all the way back out. He’s shaking too, his breath coming in jagged hitches. “Tell me exactly what you want me to do to you."

"Put it in."

"Put what in?"

"Your dick, Tyriq. I need you inside me,” you whisper, the honesty of it stinging more than the ache between your legs. “Fucking me. Now.”

He makes a sound like he’s been gutted then pushes in slow, the wet slide of him opening you up inch by perfect inch. Your body takes him the way it always has, like some part of you was carved just to fit him. His forehead hits your shoulder, breath coming hot and broken. "Fuucck. Every time, it’s like the first time. Every damn time.”

His fingers splay over your ribs, thumb brushing your nipple as he starts those long, rhythmic strokes that make your vision blur. He grips your hip, holding on like he’s the one about to drown and a whimper leaves his mouth, shifting into grunts when he pushes deeper. "Pussy feels so fuckin’ good," he breathes in your ear. "So damn good, baby. Just like home.“

"Tell me I feel good too." His hips roll into you, deep slow strokes, the drag of him pulling a moan from somewhere low in your chest. "Tell me." Your nails dig into his back and he latches onto your neck, hips snapping harder now, your bedframe knocking into the wall now. "Say it, baby."

“You feel so good… nnmph, you’re so b-big, Riq.” The confession is pathetic, words that barely make it out whispered into the hollow of his shoulder as he bottoms out again. You’re struggling to keep up, your voice failing you every time his pelvis grinds against yours.

He loves it. You can tell by the way his grip tightens on your hip, fingers bruising your skin. “You struggling, baby?” He mutters, his voice steady as he speeds up, the wet slide of his dick inside you getting louder, slicker. He’s not being gentle anymore. He’s fucking you with a focused, heavy intent that makes your thighs shake and your toes curl into the mattress. His hand slides from your ribs to cup your jaw, thumb tracing your bottom lip. "Tell me how good."

You try to answer, you really do, but he’s so deep that every time you open your mouth, all that comes out is a broken, needy little sound. It’s crazy how fucked out he has you, but you’re addicted to the feeling. The way he’s splitting you wide; that thick, relentless slide of him filling every bit of you, makes it impossible to think. You’re just a mess of heat and friction, your body trying to swallow him whole while your brain tries to remember how to breathe.

Finally, you manage a sentence without stutters. "Please keep fucking me, Tyriq. I need you.” Your nails dig into the muscles in his back and he cusses, his right hand shoving a pillow you didn’t see him grab under your hips to change the angle; all while staying inside you, the both of you making sounds of ecstasy. His hips snap harder as his big hand finds your jaw, tilting your face up, thumb tracing your bottom lip.

Tyriq kisses you gently at first, swallowing your whimpers and cries. Then his tongue passionately invades your mouth while his hand slips between your bodies, thumb finding your aching pearl again. His pressure is perfect; tight, firm circles that make your whole body tense up like a bowstring.

“You feel me?” he whispers with a strained voice, his lips against your jaw. “Feel how deep I’m in this shit? You take it so well, mama. Makin’ me never wanna pull out.”

He catches your mouth again, his tongue sliding deep as his thumb spins your clit into a frenzy. You’re close, so fucking close, and he knows it. He can feel your pussy fluttering and squelching around him, gripping him like a vice, telling him all the things you’re too overwhelmed to say. You wanna tell him how good it is, that you love him, that he’s the only one who could ever have you open like this, but all you manage is his name over and over, and he eats every sound right out your mouth, fucking you like he’ll never get another chance.

"You still thinkin' about that nigga?" His voice is thick with a jealousy he usually keeps under lock and key. You barely catch it, brain fuzzy, body strung out and so close to shattering it’s bordering on pain. "Whoever it is you be on FaceTime with or whatever at night." You can’t even find your breath, let alone an answer. Your brain is just a blur of his name and the way his dick feels like it’s rearranging you. Another whimper from him and pleasured cry from you as his tip kisses your cervix, the pressure so deliciously brutal it makes your eyes water. The wet slide of him is the only thing that’s real, as if he didn't just ask you something that matters.

His hand tightens on your hip, fingers digging in with enough strength to bruise you. He groans against your lips, the sound desperate, broken. "'Cause I’m right here. I don't think about nobody else when I'm in you like this. When I’m stretchin’ you the fuck out, claimin’ my spot deep in this perfect pussy.“

He speeds up with a frantic urgency, the pretense that control he’s so good at gone out the window. You feel his lips on your neck again, sucking hard enough to leave something behind, teeth scraping over your sensitive skin, and that does it.

Your whole body jumps like he hit a live wire, rewarding him using your pussy with a vicious tightening and gush of warm liquid, making him look down to marvel at the mess he earned.

But he’s not done and you know he’s not.

His hand slides down the side of your leg, fingers digging into the soft meat of your thigh then around to your ass, spreading so you feel everything he has for you. Your breath leaves you in a choked sound and your knees slip against the sheets, muscles clenching around him like you’re trying to hold him there.

His other hand glides over your ribs to hold you steady while he takes his time. Long, measured thrusts that start almost torturously lazy and feel anything but, every one fully bottoming out, his heavy balls slapping wetly against your pussy. The sound feels pornographic; wet, hot, driving you delirious. Your own arousal sticks on your inner thighs, his length sliding through it every time he pulls back.

“Tell me the truth. When you’re alone and you’re touchin’ yourself, who’s the one in your head?” The world stops. It’s just the two of you, the smell of sex and the weight of six years of secrets. You’re boneless now, pussy clenching around him in a way that tells him everything before you even open your mouth.

"Riq…" Your voice comes out cracked, thin.

"Answer me." He’s fucking you like he has nowhere else to be, like he’s got all night to pull you apart, dick driving into you with a rhythm that knocks the breath from your lungs. Your body’s singing for him, for this. His thumb circles your clit, tighter, faster, his teeth tugging your skin, and you’re right there again; every nerve lit up, nothing in your head but his name and the way he’s moving inside you like you’re the only thing in the world that matters. “I wanna know. Please, baby,” he whispers.

"It’s you." you gasp, the words raw like they’ve been stuck in your chest for years. Saying them feels like stepping off a ledge. "It’s always you, Tyriq, please,” you beg. He looks enthralled, half-crazed with it, pupils blown to dark green orbs of desperate need.

He stills. Buried to the hilt, both of you sounding like you ran a marathon, him pulsing inside you like your words went straight through him. His eyes search yours like he's looking for the catch, like he can't believe you actually said it. As if you just handed him a piece of himself he didn't know was missing. Then he exhales shakily and says, "There she go. There's my girl."

Tyriq kisses you hard, tongue pushing past your lips like he’s claiming something that was never anybody else’s. The first thrust back in motion knocks a sound outta you that gets swallowed straight into his mouth. If you felt like he was holding back before, all that held back energy’s exploding right now, his seed flowing warm and deep inside you as his his breath saws in and out through his teeth. The way this man always manages to unload an entire daycare inside you makes you feel grateful; both for him and the IUD he’s clearly at war with.

Always making sure he gets the last word, he’s still going like he’s trying to etch himself into the inside of you. Your mattress squeaks helpless under y’all and his hand grabs your jaw again with a firm pressure bordering on rough, but his thumb strokes your cheekbone to soothe you even as he pounds into you, drawing a second orgasm from you and a satisfied, soft smile from him.

"I know," he breathes against your lips, words breaking around a groan as your pussy spasms around him. His thrusts are punishingly good, punching blissed out noises from your throat.

His hand leaves your ass to hold your hand now, a sweeter, steady grip on your now laced fingers. “I know, pretty girl. It’s you for me too.”

I walk out our bathroom and pad across the sisal and seagrass carpet on our bedroom floor, keeping my footsteps soft and quiet. Noah doesn't look up until I’m standing right in front of him and even then, he only moves when I sink to my knees between his spread thighs. My knees hit the plush rug with a soft thud while my hands slide across his thighs. 

He blinks, thumb freezing on his phone screen like he stopped dead in action. He bites the inside of his lip just barely, barely enough for me to catch it, and then those blue grey eyes drop from his phone and right to my face. I see the exact moment his brain clocks the fact that I’m naked, on the floor and looking at him like he’s the last meal on the whole planet.

"Hi, doll." I whisper, resting my chin on his knee. I give him my most innocent looking smile, the one that isn’t even remotely close to innocent and usually makes him want to use me like a fleshlight.

His eyes drag slow down my face and over my throat, lingering on the way my tits just naturally sit up on my chest. I hear the sharp click of his phone locking and he throws it behind him on our bed without ever breaking eye contact with me.

"Hey," he says back. His voice is a low, husky rumble that makes my clit jump. He’s not moving yet. He’s studying me, trying to see how far I’m gonna take this. Don’t tempt me, baby. 

I don't give him time to think too much. That’s a waste of time. I reach up, my fingers digging into the firm muscles on his thighs, and lean forward to press my face against his stomach. He smells like bourbon vanilla and toffee and his soap and just... him. I start kissing my way up, pressing my glossed lips along his warm skin, making sure I leave my mark. I wanna taste every inch of him before I get to the prize. Then I lick up his abs, feeling the way they tense  under my tongue. He’s so perfect it’s borderline offensive; he looks too fucking good. 

"Rena," he warns, but his hand’s already making its way into my hair. His fingers thread through my curls, not pulling yet, just something for him to ground himself to.

"I missed you today, Noey," I mumble against his skin as my tongue swirls around his bellybutton. I can hear the change in his breathing right now; that well structured rhythm of his finally starting to wilt at the edges ‘cause he knows he can’t help himself when it comes to me.

"We just had lunch like three hours ago, baby."

"So? That was so long ago." I kiss the long, jagged scar on his ribs, the one I know the story behind but never talk about; I’d rather treat it like a shrine I’ll never not pay my respects to. I lick along the length of it while my hands slide up to grip his waist, my thumbs digging into those deep V-lines that frame his perfect length. "I've been thinking about this all day. I literally couldn't focus on anything else. My boss was talking about Q4 projections and all I could think about was how much I wanted to wrap my lips around you and stay there."

I can feel his heart hammering against his ribs. Noah’s composure is such a beautiful thing to watch break. I move my mouth lower, kissing the soft skin just over the edge of the towel, my nose brushing against the dark hair that leads straight to what I’ve been needy for all day. I use my teeth a little, nipping at the skin of his hip, and he lets out a sharp, saw-edged breath as mine dances against his warm skin.

"Being a little minx tonight, aren't you?" He murmurs to me while his hand grips my hair a bit harder. I moan on instinct; I can’t help it. I love the feeling. 

"I'm being your girl." I correct him, looking up with a spoiled little pout, but my eyes are wide and dark. "And your girl is hungry, Noah. I'm so fucking hungry for you, baby."

I reach for the knot on the side of his towel. Not rushing because I want him to feel the anticipation, every slow crawl of it. I pull the knot, and the cloth falls down, pooling on the ottoman behind his hips. 

He’s beautiful. Truly, unfairly beautiful. His dick is already heavy against his leg, that slight, familiar curve making my mouth salivate. It’s long just how I like it; thick enough to stretch me wide, and the head is already sticky looking, a single bead of clear precum glistening under the lamplight.

I don't go for it yet. I kiss his inner thighs first, my tongue darting out to lick the sensitive skin there, earning a soft groan from him. I love how he sounds. I want him twitching, desperate even. I look up at him and gently wrap my hands around the base of him, and I see him watching me with a look that could burn our house down. Noah’s hand that isn’t in my hair slowly comes up to my face, his thumb brushing against my bottom lip to gently rub across it. He keeps his eyes on me as I let my mouth part just a little, my tongue slipping out to taste him.

"Keep your tongue out, ma chérie," he commands in that tone that turns me inside out. My dear. 

He’s not asking me, it’s a direct order, delivered in that firm, low tone that makes my knees go weak. I obey instantly of course. I push my tongue out more and Noah leans forward, wrapping his hand around his dick and tapping it on the tip of my tongue. Once, twice, three times. The heat of him on my tongue is overwhelming in the best way. He tastes so good, too. No salt, just water and skin. 

“You missed me that bad today?” he asks through his jagged voice. I don’t answer him; just smile and keep my mouth where it is, letting him see my truth in the way my tongue holds him perfectly. 

“Now show me how much you want it, princess,” he whispers. 

I never need to be told twice. I lean in, swirling my tongue around the tip, catching that drop of precum and swallowing it down like it’s wine. I hear him groan; a deep, primal sound that vibrates in the air between us. I’m so fucking wet right now it’s ridiculous. 

I keep my eyes on him while I press soft kisses around the top of his dick, then licking along the length of him in long, slow strokes. All the way from the base to the head, my hands busy stroking the underside, feeling the weight of his balls in my hand. I’ll spend more time on those later. 

I’m getting sloppy on purpose; it’s what I want. I want the sound of it to fill the whole room, and then I want him to hear how wet I’m making myself just by being near him. I finally take the head into my mouth, just the top and suck hard, my own eyes rolling back at the feel. 

"Fuuucck, Serena..." His head falls back, his eyes closing for a second as he pushes his hips into my face. 

I pull back, my lips glistening. "Does that feel good, Noah? You like how much I love tasting you?"

"I love how much of a pretty little slut you are for me," he grits out, his hand finally fisting in my hair how I want and pulling my head back so I have no choice but to look at him. "You wanna talk? Or you wanna work?"

I sink down then, swallowing him whole in one go, letting my throat open up, my eyes watering as he slides straight to the back of my throat. My gag reflex is usually non-existent but Noah’s so big it’s a struggle sometimes, but a struggle I crave nonetheless. I wrap my hand around the base to catch his extra length and start a rhythm. In and out, deep and wet. I’m making sure to use my tongue and plenty spit, swirling it around him as I move, my nose buried in the hair at his groin.

Noah’s not passive anymore, which is exactly what I want. His hips are moving in a slow, agonizingly counter rhythm, meeting every single head bob of mine, pushing deeper with every thrust. He’s not just letting me give him head, he’s fucking my face with a deliciously terrifying precision; as anything else he does. Noah keeps his eyes focused on me, paying attention to my limits and pushing right past them with ease, an ease he’s earned in my trust. I wish I had words to describe this feeling; maybe it’s like crack. He’s playing me, pulling out a symphony of filth with every gluck noise I let out, and I’m fucking elated to be played. 

"That's it, princess. Take it. Every fucking inch. Show me just how good that mouth works.”

I pull back, spit trailing from my lip to his tip while I gasp for air, and I look at him with a feral type of hunger I have no intentions on controlling. I shift my weight, pushing my tits together with my hands, creating a slick channel for him. Noah’s eyes go wide as I slide his dick between them, the friction of his skin against my lotioned, spit slick tits making a nice, wet, squelching sound. I move my body in time with them, fucking him with my tits while I lean down to keep the tip wet with my mouth.

His eyes are blown the fuck wide now, his pupils taking over the grey. He looks like he’s in pain but a good kind, the kind that only shows up when you’re being pushed right to the edge of what you can take.

"You look so fucking good like this," he rasps. "Such a good girl, using that perfect body to please me. Do you know how much I love you?"

"Show me," I challenge him, my voice a wrecked, breathy mess. "But stop being so careful with me, Noah. Fuck my mouth. I want a sore throat in the morning, please, baby?” I coo. 

And suddenly the air has changed.  The tenderness is still there like a deep undercurrent, but the predator in Noah is outside now. He reaches down then, his hand wrapping around the back of my neck, his thumb pressing into the sensitive dip under my jaw. He guides me back down and this time there’s no slow build-up; that would be silly. Instead what I get is a brutal, relentless pace. 

Thank you, baby.

He’s thrusting into my mouth, his movements precise even as he’s getting rougher. He’s not slamming into me, but he’s deep; so deep I can feel the head of him pulsing against the very back of my throat. I’m gagging a little, my eyes lining up with tears but I’m not running away. I’m grabbing his thighs to brace us both, making sure my nails dig into his skin so he knows I don’t want him to let up. The lack of air, the overwhelming fullness of his dick in my mouth and the wet, choking sounds I’m making around it; it’s all a blur of pure sensation that has my pussy clenching so hard I think I just might cum from him using my mouth. 

"Breathe, Serena. Respire pour moi, petite salope.” Breathe for me, little slut.

Hearing him speak French fucks me up every single time. I try to focus on my breathing, my nose whistling as I take in air while my mouth is completely occupied by his thick shaft. He’s fucking my face like he’s trying to leave a mark on my soul. Every thrust is a reminder of who I belong to, but more than that how nobody else could have him like this. Be clear, I love letting Noah have his way with me and give him the reins to tear me up often, but the key word is give. Every time he hits the back of my throat, I feel a corresponding throb between my thighs, my own juices soaking the carpet underneath me.

"You eat this dick so well, princess," he praises, his voice thick with lust. "Taking it so good for me, baby. Look at you. My perfect little slut, choking on my dick like you can’t get enough. You got a puddle between your legs from this, don’t you, Serena?”

I can only moan back to respond to him, the vibration causing his hips to jerk. 

He pulls back for a second, just enough to look at me and let me get a lungful of air. I’m a mess. My hair’s probably puffy, my lips are swollen and there’s spit and precum all over my chin. And per usual, he’s looking at me like I’m the most gorgeous thing alive. 

"I'm about to nut, baby. I'm so fucking close." His voice is ragged, torn.

"Do it," I gasp, my voice cracking. "Please, Noah, give it all to me. I wanna swallow every drop.” that’s all it takes. He plunges back in, his rhythm becoming frantic and his grip in my hair tightening. He’s growling now, a low, animalistic sound that makes my whole body hot. 

"Je vais te remplir la gorge. Regarde-moi, Serena. Regarde ce que tu me fais, amour. I’m gonna fill your throat. Look at me, Serena. Look at what you’re doing to me, love.

I lock my eyes on his, making sure I don’t blink ‘cause I wanna see the moment he breaks. I wanna be the reason his world turns white while he paints my throat the same. 

His body goes stiff, his hips locking forward as he buries himself as deep as he can possibly go. And then it happens. The first hot, thick burst of his cum hits the back of my throat. It’s so fucking much, so intense I have to force myself to swallow to let my throat working around him. Then another pulse, then another, each one as powerful as the last. He’s shaking, his whole body trembling, hands fisted in my hair, his breath coming in harsh, ragged gasps while my name comes off his lips. “Serena, Serena, fuck—baby, don’t stop—”

I keep sucking even as he’s finishing, milking him for every last drop, not wanting to waste a single bit of him. I don't quit until he’s pulsing one last time, this slow, lingering throb that I feel all the way down in my stomach.

When I finally pull off, our bedroom’s dead silent aside from our combined panting. Noah’s slumped back against our bed with his chest heaving and his eyes closed. I’m still on my knees, my lips tingling and swollen, my throat feeling raw and used in a way I’m shamelessly in love with. I lick my lips, savoring the taste of him, then lean my head against his thigh.

The shift is instantaneous. Our feral need disappears, leaving a warm, hazy bliss instead. I feel Noah’s hand come down on my head, his fingers stroking my hair with a gentleness that makes my heart fall apart and stitch itself back up. This is the other side of him; the side that holds me together after he’s taken me all the way apart.

"Come here," he murmurs, his voice hoarse. 

He doesn't have to ask me twice. He reaches down and hauls me up into his lap and I straddle him, my soaking wet pussy pressing right against his thigh, my arms coming around his neck like a lifeline. He pulls me close, his face burying in the crook of my neck, lips pressing against my beating pulse. 

"You're gonna be the death of me," he whispers. "Do you have any idea what you do to me, Serena? I'm a grown ass man and you have me shaking like a teenager."

"Good," I giggle, the sound small and shaky. "I want you shaking. I want you thinking about me every time you close those eyes."

"Believe me, baby, I already do." He pulls back, his thumb wiping a stray tear from my cheek. He looks at me with so much devotion it’s almost hard to look anywhere else. "My perfect baby," he murmurs, his eyes dark with a lingering heat that makes my knees weak even while I'm sitting in his lap. Then he kisses the corner of my mouth. "Une sainte avec une bouche de pécheresse... tu vas m'achever." A saint with the mouth of a sinner... you’re gonna be the end of me.

He kisses me then. Not the hungry, desperate kisses from before. It’s slow and sweet. Worshipful. It tastes like him and me and the life we’re building together. He tastes himself on my tongue and groans, but he doesn't pull back. His arms wrap around me tighter, his hand splayed flat on my lower back, pressing me into him until there’s no space left between us at all.

"You need some water, my love," he says after a while, his voice returning to that practical, caretaking tone I love just as much as the hard dominant one. "And hurry. I need you in this bed for the next three hours minimum, Serena."

"Mm, you promise?" I whisper, nipping at his earlobe.

"Serena," he says, his voice dropping an octave, a promise and a threat all wrapped into one. "You know not to question the things I say. Je vais te briser ce soir.” I’m gonna break you tonight.

I shiver at his words; a delicious, warm thrill running straight down my spine. I don't doubt him for even half a second; Noah’s not one for empty threats and he definitely doesn’t make promises he can’t keep. I’m excited; overjoyed, even. The thought of this man doing anything to me makes every part of my body just…fuck. Who knows what he’ll do to me tonight, who knows if he’ll have me on my back or on my stomach with his hands gripping my hips, or on my knees again until I have carpet burn. I don’t even care. I’m gonna make sure he stays busy doing exactly what he wants until the sun comes up.

A/N: fun fact i liked lowkey liked noah and serena so much that i'm currently writing their standalone book about their life after they get married hehe, preview chapters are up right now :)